I’ve been in New Orleans since Saturday. I’m on Mardi Gras break from school. And yes, I’ve been to many parades. I love this photo because it was taken at a night parade when all the floats were lit up. This one made me think of Chinese New Year and the Year of the Dragon. My brother-in-law is on the far right in a coat my sister made for him from Crown Royal bags. Costuming at Mardi Gras is over-the-top and so interesting to see. I tend to be more of an observer than participant, but my wheels have been turning about “next year.”
Today is a whole other story: Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday. I have a rough draft of something like a poem on this bleary eyed, tired morning. I hope you will join me in musing about the cycle of a year or dragons or parades. Whatever this photo inspires in you. Leave your responses in the comments. Be sure to come back and encourage other writers.
Here we roll again on the wheel of life, round the bend holiday to holiday. A heart drawn on a post-it note says “I Love You.” Ashes on the forehead remind us of death, so Live like the dragon following its path. Fire on! Complete the turn! Breathe hope for another day in this parade!
Where do your prompts come from? Are you inspired to write without them or do you need a little push? Inspiration? Motivation?
I’ve been participating in The Stafford Challenge as well as Laura Shovan’s 12th Annual February Challenge, so I should not complain about needing or wanting a prompt for writing. My complaint, I suppose, is that there are too many prompts, too many things to write about. How do I choose the one? Not to mention, how do I keep up with it all?
I am lucky to be teaching ELA to different groups of children. We begin each class time with notebook writing. My students are loving this quiet, sacred writing time. I recently bought a collection of washi tapes and throw them out on the table for their use. My students are making color-coded pages, drawing, and writing, and embracing their creativity. They inspire me every day.
My student Sadie inspired this notebook poem. She came in singing. My heart drawing became a love poem I didn’t know was inside of me. The surprise of writing is addictive.
Dreams in my heart fly over the waves crashing onto the shore of your love. I am yours. You hold me like sea glass, soft and crystal, a gem, a gift from a broken world.
Margaret Simon, draft
Here is a page from Marifaye’s notebook. I marvel at her patience to write in two colors. She loves writing acrostics. Her notebook pages are beautifully created. She inspires me. She inspires her classmates. Maybe she will inspire you.
Photo credit by Kevin Nusser, “I took the photo while visiting Elijah Bond’s grave in the green mount cemetery in Baltimore MD”
I saw this photo on Facebook in The Stafford Challenge group. I was struck by the way Kevin Nusser caught the sun atop a steeple. This photo mused him to write on an old typewriter. Here is a photo of his poem.
I often think about how poetry begets more poetry. Billy Collins points this out in his poem “The Trouble with Poetry”. Can you find inspiration in the photo, the words? Perhaps steal a line and write a golden shovel. I believe the world can never have too much poetry.
How many times will we face death, wonder who are the ones we’ll lose? If I’m lucky, I won’t lose all my people before I go. As long as living keeps you here, I won’t have to carry our losses alone. I can live a wild life.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please join me and write. If you choose, share your draft in the comments. Please leave encouraging responses to others.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I started this 2024 year off as I’ve always wanted to, by writing every day. I haven’t missed a day yet. And I’m saying to my self, “This is easy.” I receive a newsletter each week from poet Maggie Smith. Hers is the only Substack I actually subscribe to. Her letter this week encouraged us to keep going. She has a just do it attitude about writing. It doesn’t matter if it’s any good. Just keep doing it, every day.
“If anyone has tried to stop me, it’s been that little voice in my head that says I’m not good enough, or no one will care what I have to say, or my idea isn’t very interesting. And my job is to turn down the volume of that little voice—the ‘inner critic’ we sometimes call it—and believe in myself and keep going. And I hope you do that, too.”
I’ve tried The Artist’s Way morning pages, but there are too many page requirements (3). I’m doing only one page. That’s it. That’s enough.
Keeping a notebook nearby is important to this practice. That and a good pen that feels smooth, flows easily. I’m not a brand snob about it. Sometimes the best pens are ones I’ve found at a doctor’s office.
To be writers, we have to give ourselves permission to write badly. Revision is our friend. I hold my breath whenever I send a poem or two to my writing group. How can I be so tender after all these years? I’ll always be vulnerable when it comes to writing, but that shouldn’t stop me.
Are you writing every day? If you’re not, are you feeling guilty about it? What would help? A new pen? A new notebook? Indulge in those things, but don’t wait for ideas. Ideas are those sparks that happen only if you ARE writing. They don’t happen unless you open the clean page and scribble a bit. Maybe one day what you scribble will look like a poem. Maybe one day your scribbles will speak to others. But today, scribble, play, bounce words around.
I am participating in Laura Shovan’s February Challenge on Facebook. It’s a small community of people like me. Some are more published. Some are not. We are all throwing words out and looking at how they land. I can write long or short. This year the topic is games, but I’m enjoying how loosely this topic has been interpreted. Today’s prompt was “games animals play” and I couldn’t help but think of my dog Charlie and his faithfulness to the tennis ball.
Charlie the schnoodle learned early in his life to relate to strangers with the toss of a ball. Anyone would throw it; he would retrieve again and again–offering his love & attention by way of a yellow tennis ball.
Here we are on the first Friday of the month and Inklings are spilling secrets. Catherine Flynn prompted us “Write a poem about secrets——family, community/societal, governmental, personal, etc. This could be a narrative (how the secret(s) started, where it or they led, the along-the-way and final (if any) consequences. For inspiration or starting blocks for your poem, here’s this poem, “Family Secret” by Nancy Kuhl: https://poets.org/poem/family-secret“
I found a way to write about my mother. It really isn’t a secret that she is living with Alzheimer’s. I’ve written about her before. But I hesitated to write about her. Is it disrespectful to the mother she used to be? I have discovered by revealing this secret, people are more open about their own struggles with the disease. I hope by telling my story with specificity, this poem/secret reaches out to the universal.
Dressing my Mother at the Memory Care Home
In my dreams, she’s at the kitchen table, sipping black coffee. She’s reading, ready for the day to come.
My sister and I remove her oversized jacket– daughters on either side coaxing her arms free from brown suede. “Is this Dad’s old coat?” my sister asks, pulling
on the heavy cloth. We are caught in a maze of arms and fabric, confusion, undoing a mistake of memory we can no longer hide from. Mom stays silent.
How does thinking work when words are gone?
Her eyes laugh at this silly game we’ve urged her to play. She giggles looks to the dolls on the bed– “How are you doing today?”
Margaret Simon
Visit other Inklings’ sites to hear their secrets, or not.
Patricia Franz is hosting this month’s Spiritual Thursday with the topic of “Love is”. I decided to create a collaborative poem with my students. I teach gifted kids at 2 schools in grades 2-6. I wrote their statements in my notebook in the order they gave them to me. It worked like a miracle without changing any words. (The reference to washi tape is due to the fact we are using it in our daily notebook practice.)
Love is washi, washi, washi tape, family, friends, teacher, arts and crafts, having fun. (A) The heart of all. (JR)
The heart of a human being when you have kindness in your heart. (J)
Spending time with friends and family. (C)
Love is beautiful. (S)
Love is a priceless treasure, like nothing else in this world. (M)
Something we need, want, and have. (M)
Love is a melody. It could be chaotic or the greatest song you have heard. (A)
Love is companionship between one another. The thought that someone would always be there for you. This is what love is. (K)
Whenever I think of Love is, I turn to the well-known verse from Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians: “Love is patient. Love is kind.” I think we can measure our love by this verse. How are we doing with our patience, kindness, envy, anger? I also wonder how I am doing with loving myself. If I believe that there is a God-light in me, then I must nurture it. I must turn inward each day to check in. Am I loving myself?
I’ve adopted a daily practice of writing small poems. The Stafford Challenge inspired me to use a quote each day to jump-start my writing. Here is a quote followed by an elfchen poem:
When you say ‘yes’ to others, make sure you are not saying ‘no’ to yourself. (Paulo Coelho)
Yes makes sounds like the ocean drawing me to love Myself
Margaret Simon, daily elfchen
How are you giving love to others while also making time to love yourself?
Photo by Juan German, provided by Janet Fagal. East side Onondaga Lake in Syracuse, N.Y. 2002.
Today’s photo is obviously more professional than the ones I usually post from my own iPhone. Janet Fagel sent this photo from a photographer friend. Such a rich photo to focus on. Being in New York, it is most likely sunrise. I see some paw prints in the snow. The tree’s shape is intriguing. What will you find here?
I’m still on my elfchen a day kick, but feel free to write any small poem form (or free verse) that comes to you. The important thing is to write and share and respond.
Willow unburdened, bent leans to light reaching for its offer Life
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.
H. D. Thoreau from 365 Days of Wonder: Mr. Browne’s Precepts
Notebook Musings:
Can kindness be taught? How does someone reach out in kindness? We worry so much about impressions. Small talk drives our relationships: How are you doing? We don’t stand still long enough to hear, really hear the answer.
Naomi Shihab Nye wrote, “Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,/ you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.” I believe this, yes. I also believe that if you want a child to be kind, you must practice kindness. I hope my grandchildren learn this from me.
I received two messages yesterday that warmed my heart. My middle daughter wrote, “Thomas said, ‘I love baking with my grandma. Do you know who that is? It’s Mamère!”
The second came from my oldest daughter. “I really want him (her son) to have his own relationship with y’all like I did with my grandparents. Makes life more meaningful for all involved. He is a little secret sweetie.” She texted me that Leo had left his two stuffed animals, Bunny and Bear, at my house. I imagined how sad he was without them in his bed.
Secret soft stuffy missing beside boy catching silent tears of Loss
Margaret Simon, daily elfchen
I found the stuffies and they are waiting to be returned to their boy.
This week the weather has turned to rain, rain, rain. The fog is hovering. Humidity high. Winter blues making me down. But then there is poetry.
Poetry saves me. I am empowered and energized by having written something. Every day, no matter the weather, I can write a poem.
Elfchen has been my go-to form. I’m writing a few everyday. It’s such a nice compact form that can contain all of my emotions and balance my mood. Here’s one from my notebook.
January 25, 2024 Truth comes in times of silence contemplating the thrumming rain Presence.
Margaret Simon, 1/25/24 draft
I’ve signed up for The Stafford Challenge which is basically a commitment to write daily as William Stafford did. Here’s a poem about wanting to sleep in. It makes me smile.
You Do Not Have to be Good* (*Mary Oliver “Wild Geese”)
You do not have to wake at 4 AM to feed the cats mewing at the back door. Cats are survivors.
Turn over, go back to sleep– the most delicious sleep comes in the wee hours of the morning in the whisper of the heater under the warm blanket his breathing, slow and steady.
Stretch your cramping foot. Discuss with yourself how the day will go if you just sleep a little more.
Dream, perhaps, in this liminal space of sacred meditation. Lie with yourself; Tell her to calm down. The cats can wait.
Margaret Simon, draft
How is your January going? Doesn’t it feel like such a long month? I hope you are writing yourself through it. And staying warm.
My three daughters made a last minute plan to meet at the Children’s Museum. They sent pictures, and I fell in love with this one with the paper butterflies (I first thought they were cranes) and Thomas looking up. He’s 4 years old, the age of wonder. Find a small poem or story in this photo and write it into the comments. Be sure to leave encouraging responses to other writers.
Today on Ethical ELA Leilya teaches us about the Naani form originating from India, an expression of one and all in 4 lines of 20-25 syllables.
Paper butterflies flutter through a wind of imagination– a child’s vision of wonder.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 